


Sealed with a Kiss

by Geonn



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Car Sex, F/F, Future Fic, In Public, Love Letters, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivy receives correspondence from Molly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sealed with a Kiss

Kincaid drives like the old man he has become, cautious and wary as always translating into a slow crawl through the streets of New York. Ivy doesn't mind the delays; she has nowhere she truly has to be. She rests her head against the window glass and closes her eyes. The knowledge keeps coming. Knowledge is created every day, unwittingly and unexpectedly, even unknowingly, people create knowledge. As the Archive, she must Know it all. It floods through her without cessation, and she manages it as best she can. She tamps it down until it becomes mere background noise. 

Harry Dresden once asked what it was like. Ivy turned on the television and radio and raised the volume to a comfortable level. She then began to recite poetry. In the midst of the cacophony, she asked Harry to sing a song. He got halfway through "Take Me Out to the Ball-Game" before he clapped his hands over his ears and begged her to stop. When it was silent, she calmly said, "Like that, only it's louder."

She's older now, older than her mother had been when she gave in to the pressures and killed herself. Ivy doesn't blame her mother or think her weak. There have been times when she's considered the same thing, but she has no heir to pass her gift to. She can't do that to the world. So she lets her mind fill like a well and she finds places to divert the endless information so it won't overflow.

_Molly to Ivy_

Her lips curl into a smile and she focuses on that voice. The words appear slowly, and she knows that they're being written out long-hand on vellum paper that will be tossed into the fire when it's finished. She has seen the house where it is being written, has been inside it and knows the writer is sitting at a large table, her bare feet crossed underneath her chair, hunched over her work like the teenager she had been so many decades before. 

That's the thing about wizards; they age differently than the rest of us. Ivy was much younger than Molly when they met, but now Ivy appears to be the older of the two. Not by much, but by a handful of years measured by lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. Ivy presses back against the seat, knowing she can't reply but wishing she could.

_It's gone cold here again. I'm wrapped in that cardigan you found the last time you stayed here. I pretend I can still smell you in the fibers. I wonder where you are. Near to me? If I begged you to come, would you? Scratch that. I know you would. Don't. I know you have other important matters to attend to, and you shouldn't put them aside for some lovesick girl in Chicago._

Ivy sees that her breath has fogged the window when she opens her eyes, and she draws in it with her finger. Molly's face is etched on the glass for just a moment, then swallowed by the evaporating molecules. 

_I will just say that I wish you could be here. Things are simple when you are here, and I hope you feel the same way. Just knowing you're out there hearing me makes me feel better. Is this why people pray? So they can believe that Something Somewhere hears and is compassionate to their pain? I'm not calling you God, Ivy. Don't get a swelled head._

Ivy giggles. For all her age, she is sometimes still a child. And for her years and sorrow, sometimes Molly is still a petulant teenager. 

_I am lonely, but it's a manageable feeling. As long as I can reach out to you in some way, I am calm. I can relax. I don't know where you are, Ivy, but I hope you're alone._

Ivy presses a button and the partition between her and the front seat rises. Kincaid doesn't acknowledge the quiet hum of the glass as it rises. Ivy loosens the buttons of her blouse, sliding her hand down the smooth line of her stomach to the front of her skirt. She knows what's coming next, and she blushes as she waits for Molly to continue writing. The tease is familiar; Molly is well aware of the instantaneous nature of writing to Ivy, so she inserts long breaks from time to time in order to tease her.

_I'm undressed now. The fire has warmed the room somewhat, but the cold instantly made my nipples hard. I remember the first night, how you warmed them with your breath and then took them into your mouth. Do you remember my fingers in your hair, my whispering that it was all right as I kissed your forehead?_

"Yes," Ivy whispers as she moves her hand back up to her breast. She teases her nipple through the black lace bra.

 _We were both so nervous that first night. You that Kincaid would find out, me that my father would. But could there have been anyone else for either of us? I don't think so. My hand is between my thighs now, Ivy, thinking of how you looked as you guided me into the bedroom. I'm looking toward the bed now, imagining you there waiting for me. Your breasts rising with your breath, your thighs parted in invitation. You could be so wanton, Ivy. Do you remember the morning Dresden came in and found you wearing nothing but your blouse? I think he was trying to call me a pedophile but you were twenty at that point and he didn't have a leg to stand on. Poor man never saw you as anything but a little girl. I'm actually glad for that. Because he saw you as a person, I think it gave you license to accept that you_ were _human. And that's what led you to be with me. I'm grateful for that. I'm using two fingers now. If you're not already touching yourself, please do, Ivy._

Ivy smiles. Her other hand pushes up her skirt and teases her underwear, biting her lip as she imagines Molly touching herself across the country. 

_Can you see me? Can you imagine me naked in my rooms, these words appearing on the page, sweat beading on my flesh as I write with one hand and tease with the other? Can you see that the words are jumpy and jagged?_

She can't see, but she knows. She knows everything.

_Your desire for me make you human, but my desire for you makes me a thing. Makes me craven and wanton with desire until all I can do is curl into a ball in my bed and whisper your name as I use both hands on myself. Do you think about me where you are?_

"Yes, Molly. Every night." She wets her lips, rolling her head forward so that her hair covers her face.

_I hope you do. I'm going to stop writing now, and I'm going to spread my lips with one hand, using the fingers of the other like your tongue. Teasing and darting inside of my sex, looking up at me to make sure it's okay, moaning as I clutch your tongue with my muscles and then release you. Are you picturing it, Ivy?_

Ivy pushes her underwear aside and presses the tips of two fingers against herself. She gasps and hunches her shoulders. Molly can make her spark, can make her feel a dozen hands all over her body. Molly can pinch both her nipples and enter her anally and vaginally while kissing the back of her neck. Oh, the things wizards can do to a person's body...! Molly has had a cock, two cocks, and Ivy has felt her ejaculate onto her and inside of her even though she knows it isn't possible. Ivy wets the tip of one finger and uses it to circle her clitoris.

_Ivy, my Ivy, nothing clings like Ivy..._

Ivy blushes and thrusts against her hand. "Molly, Molly." It's not fair that Molly can't hear her, but Ivy says it anyway. The fact it's being said is more important than the fact it's unheard. She knows that in a month, or six, or ten, she'll be back in Chicago, in her lover's arms, and Molly will ask. And Ivy will say yes, she said it, she moaned it as she came, and she wants it to be the truth. Ivy always knows the truth, so she insists she will only speak the truth to those she cares about. It's only fair.

_My fingers are still wet with my juices, and it's making it difficult to hold the pencil. I'm still trying to catch my breath._

Ivy knows the letters are waved and that Molly is struggling to make them look right despite her post-orgasmic trembling. 

_Come for me, Ivy. Come for your little wizard girl._

Molly laughs, but it turns into a groan. She closes her thighs around her hand, back arched as she pinches her nipple through her bra with the other hand. She presses her hand against her sex, one finger inside her, panting through it until she can safely move again. 

_I think I actually felt that. Wow, baby._

Ivy blushes. Wizards. Always with a trick.

_I'll leave you now. I hope you weren't in the middle of a phone call or a meeting or anything important like that. Although it would be kinky if you were, given the size of the orgasm I just felt. Poor Ivy, coming in a room full of people? Maybe next time? I love you, my Ivy._

"I love you, Molly." She touches the glass where she drew Molly's ghostly visage, letting her fingers trail over the remaining smudges. She feels the letter burn, the words cast into oblivion known only to her and one other. She closes her eyes and remembers the day when Molly had sent her a message over painstaking hours. An I, followed a handful of minutes later by a slowly appearing V, and then at last a Y. The letters were burned into freckled skin by a needle and ink, riding high on a curved hip. Ivy kissed it on her next visit to Chicago and soothed the dark letters with her tongue, eyes brimming with tears at the ceremony of it. 

"Mrs. Carpenter?" Kincaid's voice is like gravel poured through the intercom speakers. Ivy realizes the car has been motionless for a while, and begins arranging her clothing.

She has buttoned her blouse when she presses the intercom from her side. "I'll be ready to go in a moment, Kincaid."

"Whenever you're ready."

She thinks she hears him smiling, the git. She's glad he doesn't make a big deal out of it anymore. Just because she's the Archive doesn't mean she's not human. She deserves a few minutes reading a letter from her beloved. Her name isn't officially Carpenter, but Molly allowed her to use it for professional purposes. Hard to be an adult in this world with only a single name. And taking Molly's surname as her own just felt... right.

She finishes adjusting her clothing and checks the mirror to make sure her cheeks and throat are no longer flushed. Then she opens the door and steps out onto the sidewalk, where Kincaid is already waiting. She has been dreading the meeting all week, but now she feels as if she can handle anything. One more thing she had to thank Molly for. She slips her arm around Kincaid's and lets him guide her into the building.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fourth Annual Femslash Kink Meme prompt "Molly writing Ivy dirty notes."


End file.
